


I got bored so here

by Saedyn



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:34:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23951629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saedyn/pseuds/Saedyn
Summary: I thought "okay so Xena but also like, Hunger Games" and then I wrote this.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	1. The Reaping(s) (Cue dramatic music)

Joxer banged on the bathroom door. “Come on man, hurry up! We have to leave in 30 minutes and I still need to get dressed!”

  
“Calm down, baby brother. I’m almost done,” a voice called back. The bathroom door opened with a flourish, and Joxer’s brother, Jace, stood in the doorway.

  
“What are you wearing?” Joxer stared in disbelief at his brother. He was used to him wearing questionable fashions, but this was extreme. His hair was completely pompadoured, his shirt was the brightest color pink that Joxer had ever seen, his pant legs were rolled up well above his ankles, and his shoes were not only pointed, but curled at the end.

  
“Hm? Oh, this vest? I bought it last week. Do you like it?” Jace responded, absent-mindedly.

  
“You can’t wear that.” Joxer said, mortified just by imagining what other people’s reactions would be if they saw him with his brother.

  
“Really? Why’s that? I thought we were supposed to dress nice.”

  
“What if you get drawn? You’ll have to stand in front of that huge crowd, all of those cameras, looking like a clown! You’ll be an embarrassment to the family.”

  
“My name won’t be drawn. No one ever gets drawn in district two.” Jace took a second to adjust his hair, pushing it up even higher. “Besides,” he added, “I’m already just as much of an embarrassment as you are.”

  
~

  
“Hey, Gabby!”

  
Gabrielle paused what she was doing in order to respond to her sister, Lila. She had made sure to get ready quickly this morning so she would have time to do a bit of yoga to calm her nerves, but at this rate, yoga was looking less and less like a possibility. She peaked her head into her sister’s room to find her still only half dressed, with clothes scattering the floor from corner to corner. She let out a sigh. “Yes?”

  
“Do you think this dress or… this dress?” Lila switched the two dresses back and forth in front of herself, changing poses in between, making sure Gabrielle could see all different angles.  
“I would go with the blue,” Gabrielle said after thinking for a few seconds, “It brings out your eyes more.”

  
Lila compared both dresses one more time before throwing the blue dress to the floor. “I’m going with white.”

  
Gabrielle shook her head and smiled to herself while beginning to pick the rejected dresses off the floor. “Whatever makes you happy. Just make sure you’re ready to go within ten minutes.”

  
“I know, I know,” Lila said after slipping the white dress on, shortly followed by her smoothing out any wrinkle or crease she could find. “I just want to make sure I look good in case I’m on TV.”

  
“It’s really not that big of a deal Lila. The camera doesn’t get close enough to the crowd to make out individuals. You won’t even be able to pick out yourself when we watch it later.” Gabrielle had done this a few times now. The first year, her entire family had pitched into picking the perfect, presentable outfit for her to wear, however everyone was very disappointed to find that she was no more than a speck on the screen when the reaping was broadcast. Lila seemed to have missed that moment, and now that it was her first time to attend, she was going full out.

  
“Well, yeah, not in the crowd, but if I get selected—”

  
Gabrielle grabbed Lila’s arm. “Don’t say that. You’re not going to get selected, okay?” She tried to sound as calm as she could, but when mentioning the word “if” when talking about the reaping, it was hard to keep a neutral tone.

  
“Okay! Sorry, jeez…” Lila exclaimed, shaking off her sister’s hand.

  
Gabrielle recoiled slightly. Being selected for the reaping was not something you would make a passing comment about. She couldn’t decide if Lila’s lack of concern for the situation was a good thing or a bad thing.

  
“Meet me outside in ten, okay?”

  
“Yeah, sure.”

~

“Mom, Jett ate my breakfast!” Joxer had tried to get to the kitchen as quickly as he could after getting dressed, but it wasn’t fast enough. He entered the breakfast room right on time to see his oldest brother, Jett, finishing up the last piece of bacon on his own plate.

  
“He needs the extra protein for today, so I said he could have it,” his mom called casually from the kitchen.

  
“Yeah, I needed the extra protein, Jockstrap,” Jett said as he walked by Joxer, shortly followed by him putting him in a headlock and ruffling his hair.

  
“Jett don’t mess up your brother’s hair. We all need to look presentable today.” Their mother entered the room, behaving strangely calm, given the occasion. Upon her entrance, Jett immediately backed away from his brother.

  
“Right, sorry, Mom.”

  
“Save that kind of behavior for the arena.” As mothers do, she quickly swooped in to try and rescue Joxer’s hair before standing back to look at the clothes he had chosen to wear for the big event. “Aww, you look cute! Doesn’t he look cute, Jett?”

  
“Yeah,” Jett managed to force out without letting a laugh slip through. “Adorable.”

  
“Oh, perk up,” their mom said, noticing Joxer’s glum expression. “I know you’re going to miss your brother but, tell you what! After the reaping, I’ll make you that special double decker omelet you love so much, okay, Punkin?”

  
Joxer looked sheepishly up at his mom, trying to ignore his brother’s smug face behind her. “Okay,” he resigned.

  
Today was hardly a day Joxer felt he could “perk up” on; despite the years of watching Jett train, his dad boasting about “when we have a champion in the family,” none if it felt real until this moment. Jett was going to volunteer to be a tribute in this year’s Hunger Games. That was known by pretty much everyone in District 2, but what would happen after wasn’t as set in stone. The outcome that most people he knew chose to believe, was that Jett’s ego would be justified and he would win, meaning Joxer would never be able to escape from the stories of Jett’s great and majestic acts and the endless questionings of “Why can’t you be more like your brother?” Joxer was already very much invisible when in the presence of his brother and this would only amplify it.

  
Of course, the other possible ending to this tale was that Jett didn’t win. His now honorable family would be pitied by some and shamed by others. And Joxer would never see his brother again.  
Joxer purposefully pushed past his brother on his way out the door and began to make his was to the registration for the reaping.

~

  
Gabrielle had already decided that she would volunteer if Lila’s name was called. She supposed she didn’t really have to make that decision; it would just be an instinct. Although she knew that she would barely stand a chance in the games, she knew she was more capable than Lila was. Lila was young, naïve, and oh so sheltered. If Gabrielle knew her sister well enough (which, she did) she would bet that Lila would end up falling head over heels for whichever poor boy was selected for the male tribute and expect that to carry her through the games. She knew that because at Lila’s age, Gabrielle had the same mind set, but she was older now, and had seen enough games to know that wasn’t how it worked.

  
Now as she stood in the huge crowd of children, all anxiously awaiting their fate, she kept trying to catch a glimpse of her sister, to make sure she was handling this okay. This didn’t work out however, because Gabrielle was on the shorter side, so the only thing she was able to do was worry. The wait for the Reaping to start always felt much longer than it was, but this was the longest one yet. Finally, the screens on either side of the stage turned on, the nervous murmuring quieted down, and a video began playing.

  
The video was nothing new, and well over half the kids didn’t even look at the screens to watch; they had more pressing matters to think about. It was nothing that they hadn’t learned in their history classes. When the gods had saved the continent from being destroyed with the rest of civilization during the apocalypse, they had then fought for who got to rule the land. Athena, the goddess of wisdom, came up with the idea that they could split the land into twelve districts, one for each of the major gods, with Zeus being an overseer of all the districts. The gods agreed on this, but never straying from their competitive ways, the gods began turning their districts on each other to see who had the superior civilizations. Deciding this was not a healthy way for a country to run, Zeus then declared that instead of whole districts fighting each other for pride, only two young adults from each would compete for the honor and glory of their home. Thus, began the hunger games. TL;DR: The gods suck.

  
The video ended, and District 5’s goddess walked onto the stage. Seeing her in person normally would have brought awe and admiration to anyone who was lucky enough to see her, but today it only brought dread, because her appearance meant names were about to be drawn. Aphrodite approached the microphone.

  
“Good morning everyone!” She said, her cheeriness biting into the agonizing silence.

  
There was no response. She didn’t seem to notice.

  
“I don’t know about you all, but I am beyond excited for this year’s games. I have this gut feeling that District 5 is going to take home a win this year!”

  
Again, no response from her audience.

  
“Alright, I can tell you guys are eager to get things started, so ladies, let’s start with you!” With that she placed a hand in one of the large bowls placed in front of her, shuffling around the scraps of paper that would decide the fates of every child in the audience.

  
Gabrielle clinched her fists as she stared up at the stage, unblinking. _Please don’t let it be her_ , she thought to herself. _Anyone but Lila, gods, I’m begging you, anyone but her._  
Aphrodite pulled out a slip of paper. “Gabrielle of Potidaea,” she announced with a smile.

  
Gabrielle let out a sigh of relief upon not hearing her sister’s name only to then not be able to breathe when she processed the name that was called. She looked around. Everyone she knew was staring at her.

  
Still in shock, she slowly made her way up to the stage. Once there, she managed to find Lila in the crowd among the younger girls, her eyes wide from the realization of what just happened. Gabrielle couldn’t look at her very long without risking crying, so she averted her gaze to the ground.

  
“Okay! Very nice!” Gabrielle flinched as Aphrodite continued into the microphone. She was much closer to the speakers now, and everything felt a hundred times more intense than they had a minute ago. “Let’s carry on to the gentlemen, shall we?”

  
Again, Aphrodite reached one of the bowls in front of her and, in what felt like a much shorter amount of time than the first one, produced a slip of paper. She squinted as she tried to read the name, before returning to her widely smiling persona and announcing proudly: “Iolaus of Thebes!”

  
A boy who was noticeably shorter than his peers began moving up to the stage. A couple of boys who Gabrielle assumed to be his friends clapped him on the back as he passed them, wishing him good luck. The boy did not seem to return the enthusiasm.

  
Once on the stage, he repeated the same procedure Gabrielle had just done of looking out in the crowd before looking down, only this time he added the steps of glancing at her, making awkward eye contact, attempting to give a friendly smile, all before giving up and staring back down at his feet.

  
Aphrodite approached them and wrapped one arm each around their shoulders, giving them a light squeeze, almost as if it were a hug. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, your District 5 tributes! Aren’t they a handsome pair?”

  
The crowd applauded. Now that they knew they were safe for at least another year, they could relax.

  
~

  
Joxer was not relaxed. Most people would say he had no reason to be nervous, but there was a heavy pit in the bottom of his stomach that wanted to make him throw up. His pale, worried face stood out significantly in the herd of half confident, half apathetic children.

  
District 2’s representative god, Ares, appeared on the stage to thunderous applause. He briefly flattered the crowed by raising his arms to increase the cheering and nodding his head to a select few members of the crowd before grabbing the mic.

  
“That’s enough, everyone, quiet,” he said with a casual yet firm authority. The crowd obliged. “Look, I don’t want to be stuck here any longer than you do, so let’s skip the video and get to the volunteers.”

  
The kids began to cheer again—everyone hated that video. Ares rolled his eyes at the quickness that he managed to lose the crowds attention. He grabbed a sword from one of the guards standing on the side of the stage and slammed it into one of the metal beams supporting the platform. A loud clang that pierced through the eardrums of those too close to the stage rang throughout the crowd.

  
“No one cheers until this is over.” He paused to make sure the message got across. No one spoke. “I have a feeling you all have already decided who the tributes will be so no need to waste time. Ladies, who’s volunteering?”

  
A slender, pointed hand twisted up into the air from the girls’ side of the audience. The girls all parted as the owner of the hand walked up to the stage. The girl was younger than most of the people who would usually volunteer, but there was a glint in her eye that caused no one to question if she belonged on the stage as a tribute. She smiled out at her audience.

  
“Bold choice,” Ares said, sounding almost impressed at her confidence, something that was rare to hear from him. “Say your name into the mic so we can move on.”

  
She stared dead into the closest camera as she leaned into the mic he was holding out for her. “Callisto of Cirra.” She said it clear, pronounced.

  
“Good. Other volunteer, you can come up now.”

  
No one spoke up, not immediately at least. Kids started whispering to each other, looking around. This was highly unusual. _The asshole’s building up suspense for a grand entrance_ , Joxer thought to himself. He’s spent too much time around Jace. _Right now he’s probably puffing up his chest with that stupid, smug look on his face, and he’s about to proudly exclaim_ “I volunteer!”

  
The muttering and whispering all stopped. Everyone was looking at him. Including Ares.

  
“Are you going to come up or do we have to drag you?”

  
Oh. He had imagined Jett volunteering out loud. They all thought he was volunteering himself. He started to try to find words to dig him out of his impending grave, but he was already being pushed up to the stage. He decided to take the last few steps himself in attempts to conserve the last scraps of dignity he had, but he tripped as he got onto the platform. He recovered as quickly as he could, but his now bright red face remained as a reminder of the embarrassment

.  
“You certainly sounded… certain of yourself.” Ares winced at the shame he knew he’d receive upon presenting this kid as a tribute. “What’s your name?” he sighed.  
Joxer mouth was dry, and he struggled to get the words out. “I’m uh… Jet—Joxer; Joxer of um, Athens.”

  
“Are you sure about that?”

  
“Haha, very funny,” Joxer swallowed hard, “Mr. Ares sir.” Joxer was tall, but he cowered in the shadow of the god standing next to him. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  
“Then I guess that’s it,” Ares resigned. “Everyone, your District 2 tributes.”

  
A confused applause occurred. Joxer glanced at his fellow tribute who was analyzing him with an intrigued curiosity, her expression a mix of anger and amusement.

  
“This is gonna be a shit show,” Ares muttered under his breath.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I promise things'll get more juicy I'm just setting stuff up rn

Chapter 2:

Joxer sat in the holding room, shell shocked. For what felt like an eternity, he stared at the wall across from him, unblinking, his face as white as the clouds outside on this ironically beautiful day. _Surely this is a nightmare_ , he thought. _Things don’t happen to me like this, good or bad. I’m asleep._ If he were, in fact, asleep, he wouldn’t wake up. 

He began thinking of ways to explain himself, that this was all a misunderstanding, that he didn’t _mean_ to volunteer himself. He knew any attempt he could possibly make would be frugal, but the dialogue ran through his head, nonetheless.

The door to the room opened, and from it entered the last person wanted to talk to, who was somehow also the only person Joxer would want to talk to in this situation: Jett. Typically when Jett would walk into almost any room he would bring some tension with him, but his presence miraculously calmed Joxer. Nothing today was as it should’ve been.

Joxer looked to the door, expecting the rest of his family to come through right behind his brother to say their goodbyes, but his silent query was answered with a slight head shake from Jett. They weren’t coming.

“Mom’s in denial, Dad is in shock, and they wouldn’t let Jace in,” he said, taking a seat next to his brother.

Joxer laughed for the first time that day. “I told him not to wear those shoes.”

A silence hung in the air. It wasn’t often that the two of them had a conversation that didn’t start or end with fighting. Neither of them really knew how to talk to the other.

“It was ballsy, what you did out there,” Jett said, trying to say anything so it wouldn’t feel like this short period of time to say goodbye was wasted. “Don’t get me wrong, it was fucking stupid but… it took guts. And that’s pretty cool.”

“You know me, stupidly cool.”

Jett playfully nudged his brother, wanting to hit him harder but knowing he would regret it if he did. “Why did you do it?” His voice caught in his throat ever so slightly. Was he getting emotional?

Surprising even himself, Joxer suddenly felt furious. His entire life, he had never, _never_ , seen his brother act anyway other than confident and superior. Not once had he seen sympathy, seen compassion, seen regret. And now, of all times, he’s going to get choked up. Joxer moved away from him, staring straight at the ground. “Why didn’t you?”

He didn’t respond immediately. A lifetime of fighting and bickering and Joxer had finally hit him with his shields down. He didn’t feel victorious about it.

“I was scared.”

With that one confession, Joxer forgave his brother. Finally, he wasn’t a rival, or a role model, he was human, just like himself.

“This whole time I’ve been telling myself I can do this, but the moment came and… I couldn’t.” Jett sniffed. Joxer looked up and saw his brother was crying, the sight alone causing his eyes to water as well. “But you could. You _did_.”

Jett looked up, making eye contact with his brother, and while not doing so physically, forced Joxer to do the same. “I am _so_ proud of you for that.”

Joxer broke the stare. He didn’t have the heart to tell him the truth.

“Your time is up.” A guard had come into the room, holding the door open for Jett to leave. Solemnly, he did as he was told walked toward the exit. Before leaving, he turned back and said, “Watch out for the female tribute, Callisto.” The guard began trying to gently “escort” him out, not wanting to allow him to overstay his time, however Jett was strong and resisted. “I’ve trained with her, she’s good.”

Jett struggled to get his words out as he pushed against the guard. “Do _not_ trust her! She’s tricky!” The guard finally managed to get a solid grip on him, pulling him out of the room. Just before the door closed itself, Joxer managed to hear one last message from his sibling: “Make us proud!”

And once again, he was alone.

~

Saying goodbye was the hardest thing Gabrielle had had to do in her entire life. Her and her family had been crying so hard that barely any words were spoken. And now, after the most emotional moment in her life up to this point, she felt numb, the image of Lila in the crowd at the reaping burned into her brain. Her eyes still burned red from the tears as she stared out the window of the train pulling her away from home. 

The other district 5 tribute sat on the other side of the compartment in a dining booth, using a fork to pick at a plate of now cold food. Gabrielle didn’t know him personally, but she had seen him before. He was older than her, probably the oldest one could be to still be considered as a tribute, and he was kind. She had seen him from time to time helping people around the district, volunteering to carry things for elderly citizens, retrieving lost balls for kids that had accidentally thrown theirs into the woods. He was well liked by almost everyone.

 _It’s a shame_ , Gabrielle’s father had once said, _that it’s always the_ good _kids that are sent off to the games._ Is that what she had done wrong? Had she been too good?

Suddenly the question came to her: Would it be better to be trapped in there with good people, or genuinely evil people? The options seemed equally terrible.

She made her way across the compartment to sit opposite of him at the table. She didn’t really feel like talking at all, but she supposed the earlier the better to attempt to make an alliance, or at least some kind of relationship.

“Iolaus, right?”

He pressed his lips together and nodded a confirmation. “And you’re Gabrielle,” he responded. “The great poet.”

Gabrielle felt a tingle run down her back. She never made a big deal about her writing to anyone she knew; let alone anyone she’d never spoken to. “How...” she began to ask.

“Mrs. Kallope always puts her favorite writings from each unit on the bulletin outside of her classroom. Sometimes when I walk by, I stop to read them. You’ve had five and it’s only half way through the school year. That’s new record.”

“I didn’t think anyone actually read those,” Gabrielle scoffed.

“Well, as the previous record holder I liked to keep an eye on any new competition.” Iolaus cut off a piece of steak he had been poking at, finally deciding to start eating it.

“I didn’t think it would be that hard, saying goodbye and all. I mean, I knew it would be _hard_ , but I had imagined it so differently when I was younger. Gods, that’s sad. As kids we imagine what it would be like to have to leave our families as sacrifices to the gods…” she stopped herself. She knew she had a habit of babbling whatever thought came into her head, not matter the relevance or appropriateness of the topic. She’d need to get a handle on that.

Iolaus finished chewing and cleared his throat. “I wouldn’t know.” Noticing Gabrielle’s confused reaction, he elaborated. “I’m an only child, as far as I know, I’ve never known my father, and my mom,” he laughed, but she sensed he was covering up another emotion, “She doesn’t care.”

She sat not knowing what to say. She had never even considered the fact that some people had no family to say goodbye to, no one that would miss them.

“I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be. It just means there’s no expectations I have to live up to. I can do whatever I want.”

The door to the compartment slid open, shortly followed by Aphrodite entering with a flourish, killing the atmosphere in the room. Seeing her tributes together, she pushed her way into the booth next Iolaus, knocking the fork out of his hand and it clattering to the other end of the table.

“Hello, hello! Good to see you two are getting _acquainted_ , I hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.”

“We were just talking,” Gabrielle said as Iolaus attempted to reach for his lost utensil. Aphrodite slapped his hand away.

“You can eat later, we need to talk strategy.” She stared each of them down, assessing them. Gabrielle had always been fairly confident in her external appearance, but she couldn’t help but to now feel insecure under the gaze of a goddess. “You’re both a little rough around the edges but not enough so to be intimidating… Oooooo I know, why don’t we make it look like the two of you—

“No.” Both tributes responded instinctively. District 5 had a history of having “couple tributes,” a tactic developed to gain sponsors and, hopefully, sympathy from competitors. It never ended prettily, often with one killing the other because of the rage that had built up when they had to pretend to be in love in public. Gabrielle had promised herself she would never let that happen, and it seemed Iolaus felt the same way.

Aphrodite huffed out a breath of air. “You’re right, the trope is overdone,” she said, resting her chin on her hand and making a face that reminded Gabrielle of a child who believed hadn’t received enough attention for the day; a pout, one could say.

A trill beeping noise sounded from somewhere in the compartment.

“Oh!” Aphrodite clapped her hands excitedly. “All the footage from the reapings are in.” She led them to another compartment that was set up similar to a living room, with a couch and two chairs facing a television in the center. She laid down on the couch and turned the TV on as if she were tuning in to a daily soap opera. Gabrielle and Iolaus were both too nervous to sit down.

Gabrielle held her stomach as District 1’s tape began to play. District 1, also known as the District of Athena, had produced the most victors of any district. Their tributes were unassuming at first glance, but with their superior education systems, they were well taught in almost all fields: combat, survival, strategy, medicine, etc. which made them serious threats. Of course, both were volunteers, with their chests puffed out, an air of leadership in their eyes.

District 2, the District of Ares, was usually more of the same, just less sophisticated. That’s why it came as such a shock when she saw the male tribute. The girl fit the bill perfectly, although she was a little young to volunteer, but he was scrawny, meek looking. Gabrielle would have felt bad for him if he hadn’t volunteered and she wasn’t in the exact same position as him.

The reapings played on, most tributes reflecting the core traits of their representative god or goddess, with each new child walking onto the stage making her feel sicker and sicker. Would she have to kill them? Which one of them would end up killing her? She looked over to Iolaus to try and gauge what he was thinking, but his face held no expressions; whatever he was feeling, he was determined to keep it inside. And then District 10’s clip played.

The District of Hephaestus was responsible for crafting all the metal work in the nation, and children began apprenticing at a young age. While not trained specifically to fight, they knew weapons, and they were strong, this year especially.

The girl was tall with jet black hair, and while the camera quality wasn’t great (the further down the list of districts you go, the worse the technology tends to be) Gabrielle could feel the intimidation she carried through the screen. She already knew she was going to be one of the final tributes in the arena. The boy had a similar effect. He was even taller, with broad shoulders and massive muscles. If anyone ended up in a one on one fight with him, it was game over. The two of them standing next to each other sent a wave of despair crashing through Gabrielle.

Iolaus laughed. “We’re screwed.”


	3. Chapter The Third

Chapter 3:

Callisto shrieked, throwing the nearest cup at the monitor. The cup shattered into pieces on impact, cracking the screen and causing the video to freeze, the image stuck on the District 10 tributes.

Ares raised his eyebrows at the sudden outburst. “I would have appreciated being able to see the rest of the tributes, personally.”

She glared at him before storming out of the room.

Joxer sat a little ways off, too surprised to move. The atmosphere had been tense since boarding the train, as was only to be expected, but he had hoped it would be a calm tensity, at least for a day or two. Finally, he worked up the nerve to break the silence.

“Is that normal?” he asked, hesitantly. “For a tribute, I mean.”

Ares had been analyzing the image left on the screen but broke his attention briefly to glance at Joxer. “It’s normal for my tributes to hate Hephaestus’s and his to hate mine. It’s encouraged. Makes for good TV.” He stepped closer to the monitor. “But I’ve never seen a reaction that strong—not this early, anyway.

“Not that I blame her. These two look promising.” At this point, he was only inches away from the display. Joxer got the feeling he wasn’t addressing him anymore. “How did you do it?” he muttered. “How did you ‘randomly’ draw these two while I’m stuck with a tantruming child and a fool?”

“Hey!” His protest to the statement surprised even him.

Ares turned around, his surprise turning into amusement. Joxer now realized he had stood up. “Go ahead,” Ares laughed. “Make your case.”

“Well…” Joxer looked down. Holding eye contact with a god who was mocking you was easier said than done. “I know I’m not my brother,” he mustered out. “But I’ve trained with him since I could crawl. I have the scars to prove it.” He clenched his fists, trying to come up with something, anything. “I may not be the prized warhorse you wanted, but I’m not a lost cause.”

Slowly, he looked back up towards the war god to find his face surprisingly serious—before it split into a childish grin as Ares broke into a giggling fit. Joxer could feel the tips of his ears heating up.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped into between snickers. “I tried to keep it in but…” He wiped a tear starting to form in his right eye. He put his hand on Joxer’s shoulder. Joxer flinched. “Listen kid,” he said, finally regaining his composure. “I watched your brother train. He was _good_.” He winced for effect. “But not good enough. Pardon my poor bedside manner, but I’m not one to instill false hope. Now, you might have the fighting spirit; hell, I fully believe you do. But,” he took his hand off his shoulder and stepped back, shaking his head. “No.” With one last laugh, Ares vanished in a cloud of blue light.

Joxer slumped back into his chair, throwing his hands up in defeat and exasperation.

~

Aphrodite clicked the television off. “So…” she said, turning to her tributes. “What do we think?”

After a pause, Iolaus responded: “They’re scary?”

“Well duh,” she said, sitting up. “But I meant besides that. I’ve seen hundreds of these games be played and I’m telling you, the key to victory is allies and sponsorships.” As she said this, she popped several small candies into her mouth from a bowl on the side table next to the couch. “So? Who stood out?”

Gabrielle had spent many a night thinking about which districts would be best to team up within the event that she got picked, so for once, she knew how to respond. “It’s hard to say without actually seeing what everyone can do, but if we’re going off of statistics, kids from Artemis’s district tend to value loyalty the most and--”

“No, no, forget about districts,” Aphrodite interjected. “All that matters is first impressions. If _you_ like them based on what you saw just now, chances are sponsors will like them too and other tributes will be less likely to target them, and therefore you. No one likes killing pretty people.” She said this as if it was some universal truth to life that everyone was aware of.

“Oh…”

Gabrielle and Iolaus exchanged a look that confirmed they were both feeling the same confusion and concern regarding their mentor.

“I guess the tributes from district one were nice to look at?” Gabrielle racked her mind to remember what everyone had looked like. She hadn’t known she was supposed to be looking for how attractive all the kids she was about to have fight are.

“The district two girl was pretty in a kind of eerie way…?” Iolaus attempted to add on.

“The district four boy was good looking enough.” She suddenly recalled the tributes from Hephaestus’s district. She wouldn’t say “pretty” was the right word, but there was something about them, the girl more specifically, that drew you in while also making you want to run and hide.

“The kids from District 10 might have been gods,” Iolaus said as if he could hear Gabrielle’s thoughts. Aphrodite, a goddess herself, was not amused with this statement.

“We may be reaching a little now, but you have the right idea. Keep thinking about it. Tomorrow, after the opening parade ceremony, you’ll have your first opportunity to meet the other tributes. Figure out who you’ll want to talk to now; it’s never too early to start making deals.”

A small bell went off, signaling that the clock had struck the hour: 10:00 pm. Right after, a small ding sounded as if a notification came in somewhere.

Aphrodite let out a small yawn that definitely wasn’t real. “I’m sure you’ve both had a tiring day, and tomorrow will be much more exhausting. You two should head off to bed now. I’ll see you at 7:00 for breakfast.” She watched as the train’s staff came in to escort the kids to their rooms, waiting until there was no one left but her in the area. She then pulled out a cell phone and tapped on it a few times. “This is ‘dite,” she said, much quieter than her normal tone but still just as peppy.

“Aphrodite, it’s Ares. We need to talk,” responded a voice from the phone.

“I know,” she said, her lips pressed together, all of her exuberance suddenly disappearing. “I saw it too.”


	4. Chapter 4

No one slept well that night, let alone Callisto. For the past two years, she hadn’t once gotten a full night of rest once. She couldn’t afford to.

She and Joxer had been told to be dressed and awake by 7:00 so they could be prepared for their arrival at the capital. She checked the time. 7:03.

Her fingers drummed on the table in front of her, her hands itching to grab hold of something she could spin or throw or swing. She had gotten so used to training every minute of every day that having to spend over twenty-four hours only being able to idly sit around and participate in useless small talk was agonizing. _It will be worth it_ , she reminded herself. _Soon_.

The idiot was in the room too, drooling out the window as if discovering the outside world for the first time. Given the silent wreck of fear he had been last night, he appeared to be in a much better state of mind, or at least, attempting to be.

Gradually, she felt the train slow down to a leisurely speed and her heart sped up, knowing this meant she was one moment closer to her goal. For a brief second, she thought she could feel herself smiling.

“Hey, Callisto,” Joxer said. Any ounce of excitement she had felt disappeared. “There are crowds of people gathered to see us come in, some of them probably sponsors. Come look!” he said this while awkwardly waving out the window, a dumb, wide grin on his face.

_How cute_ , she thought, bitterly. _He’s trying to be friendly_.

“Why should I try to appeal to a mass of people cheering at the fact that they might see me die soon?” she responded. She got up from her seat, peering out the window in disgust, before slamming the blinds down over it. Joxer jerked backward.

“District two tributes never rely on sponsorships,” she said. “We shouldn’t need them to win.” With that, she returned to her seat.

~

“Well… What do you think?” Aphrodite asked eagerly, spinning her tributes around to face a mirror, seeing their complete looks for the opening ceremony for the first time.

“It’s very…” Iolaus started.

“Pink,” Gabrielle stated.

The two of them stared at their reflections in horror. Gabrielle’s hair had been teased sky-high, her face so caked with makeup she could have been a court jester. And her dress—that was the worst part. The shoulders puffed out at uneven angles, the frills on the bottom so large that she could barely move without stepping on them. As for Iolaus, he looked as if he were a reluctant ring bearer at a wedding at which he knew neither the bride nor groom, stuffed into a bright pink tuxedo, his hair slicked back to the point where it appeared to be laminated. 

They had started getting ready as soon as they had gotten off the train at the capitol and it had taken hours for them to be fully dressed, requiring several tailors, hairstylists, and makeup artists. This was the end result.

“You don’t like it,” Aphrodite pouted, crossing her arms.

“It’s… not what I would have picked out for myself…” Gabrielle said. She had been planning on adding a “but”, however, she couldn’t think of any redeeming quality of the apparel she had on. She and Iolaus stood uncomfortably as Aphrodite began throwing a pity party for herself. After all, she had spent _so_ long planning these looks out, and this was just _heartbreaking_ to see all her effort go to waste.

Her sobs disappeared in an instance to be replaced with a small grin. “Just kidding!” she giggled.

“You mean, this _isn’t_ what we’re wearing tonight?” Iolaus asked, half relieved and half angry that it had taken so long to put on a costume for seemingly no reason.

“Uh, Hades no,” She answered. “Hello? Goddess of Beauty?” She snapped her fingers, creating clouds of smoke that enveloped both children. When they dispersed, their appearances had been drastically transformed.

Gabrielle stared, open-mouthed at her reflection. Her hair had become completely free of any tangle, pulled back into a delicate bun, a few strands pulled out to form thin ringlets, framing her face. The makeup that made her look like a clown previously was gone, replaced by the most precise work that she had ever seen, not even on Aphrodite, and her dress had become a beautiful blush gown, fully capable of drawing the attention of all eyes in any room she could walk into. Any trace of the farm girl she had been just twenty-four hours prior was erased, and in her place stood someone who looked as if they could be related to the gods.

“I didn’t have these before…” Iolaus said under his breath, poking at his arms where a small amount of muscle had formed. He too looked much more polished and much less laughable than before. Not only did his clothes alter, but his height had been slightly increased and his shoulders broadened; nothing that would be noticeable to mere acquaintances, but a change nonetheless.

Aphrodite smiled, admiring her work. “Don’t get too attached. I’m good, but I’m not a miracle worker. After the ceremony tonight you’ll both go back to being your ungroomed standard. But tonight…” She turned them both to face her, “you’ll be the most beautiful tributes the Capital has laid eyes on.”

~

Callisto hissed as the leather armor she had been assigned to wear was tightened around her waist. “That’s enough!” she snapped. Her stylists stepped back, knowing the damage a District 2 tribute could do. She quickly pulled away from them and began to head toward the chariot loading area; there was no need for last-minute touches, she was ready to go.

Her eyes scanned for the chariot she had seen District 2 use in past years—red with black and gold trimming, pulled by four black mares—but all the people running back and forth made it hard to spot it easily. Everywhere she looked there were people getting ready for the ceremony: animal handlers securing the reigns on the horses, stylists fixing their assigned tributes hair, other tributes with adrenaline skyrocketing, mentors—

A chill ran down her spine as she realized that there could be several gods in the very room she was standing in. Of course, she had known they’d all be at the ceremony, but it hadn’t clicked that they’d all be _here_ until this moment. Her anger started to fester again, but she caught herself, inhaling deeply. _Not yet,_ she thought.

“Callisto! Over here!”

And just like that, the anger was back.

The idiot was standing by the chariot she had been looking for, waving his arm through the air as if he were trying to land a plane, thus drawing the attention of several individuals nearby. _Gods_ , _where is Ares to clock him in the head when you need him?_

She made her way to the chariot, her sights locked straight ahead as she attempted to ignore the unwanted eyes that were now watching her. She pushed past Joxer, stepping into the chariot and taking hold of the reigns.

“You look nice,” Joxer attempted, stepping in next to her. “The armor looks… natural.”

“And you look like your brother. The competent one, I mean.” He did look good in his costume. If it weren’t for his childish behavior, he would almost look threatening. Almost.

“You know, if we’re going to work together, I’d really prefer you didn’t keep comparing me to my brother.”

She cocked an eyebrow and turned to him. Though he was easily a head taller than her, she still managed to tower over him. “Who says we’re working together?”

“Well—” he stammered, leaning away from her, “we’re from the same district and that’s typically—”

“I am _not_ a typical tribute,” she spat. “You certainly aren’t either.”

She wrapped the reigns around her thin hands, gripping them tightly, and turned back to the front of the chariot. Her eyes were fixed on something far off, a vision invisible to all except her.

“If I were going up against Zeus himself and you were the only other person on the planet, I still wouldn’t team up with you.”

“All tributes to your chariot!” called a woman standing near the door to the arena. “The ceremony will begin in five minutes!”

**Author's Note:**

> I have a whole story planned out but idk when I'm going to be able to finish this but I hope you liked the first chapter :)


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